


The "Her" Nightmare

by thathyperloudfangirlchick



Series: Baked My Way Into Your Heart [10]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: F/M, Insecurity, Personification of bad feelings, Surgery Hallucination
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 18:01:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5014660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thathyperloudfangirlchick/pseuds/thathyperloudfangirlchick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hotch is not the only one who encounters Haley Hotchner on the brink of death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The "Her" Nightmare

          “Hotchner,” Aaron greets, shouldering the phone as he rifles through the stacks of papers on his desk. Ten more forms, and he can get home by twelve; he can handle that, right?

          “Oh… oh, Aaron…” Aaron lifts his head up and presses the phone to his ear, an unsettling feeling making home in his bones.

          “Adrienne. Is something wrong? Are you on the night shift at the bakery again?”

          “Oh… Oh, Aaron, I’m not on the night shift. Y/N was.” At the ‘was’, he sits straighter in his seat, and Adrienne chokes back a sob. “Y/N, Y/N was on the night shift, because it’s my anniversary, she insisted on doing it herself… Oh, Aaron, there was a robber, he had a knife.”

          The pen in his hand snaps in half, and a chill sweeps over his body as he stands up abruptly. “The police say she fought him after triggering the silent alarm, they found him knocked out and her bleeding out on the floor. She’s going into surgery right now, and her aunt is her emergency contact, but I knew I had to call you.” Only when his door swings open to reveal a concerned Reid does Hotch realize in his shocked anger, he knocked over a stack of books and his desk chair.

          “Hotch! Are you okay?” he asks, stepping into the room slowly, concerned as his boss frantically stuff papers into his briefcase, clutching his phone to his ear for dear life. He murmurs into the phone before hanging up, snapping his briefcase shut, and rushing to the door.

          “Y/N’s been hurt, and she’s about to go into surgery. Tell Strauss I’ll be gone while I watch over my fiance,” is all he says from the doorframe before jogging out the office.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

          ‘I’m not burning to a second death, so I guess that’s a good sign I didn’t go to hell,” you think as you look up at the bright blue sky dotted with fluffy clouds. You sit up from your laying position on the crisp green grass and look around at the line of picture perfect houses and the literal white picket fence surrounding the yard you lay in. Is heaven a Stepford suburban neighborhood?

          “You’re under anesthesia. You’re not dying, Y/N. Not yet.” You whip your head toward the ominous voice and freeze as Haley Hotchner leans nonchalantly on the doorframe of her beautiful house, her face cold and unwelcoming much unlike the pictures strewn about Aaron’s apartment but much like the nightmares you had about her, the woman you would never be able to replace. She crooks a finger towards you and walks into the house, her house, without another glance towards you, and you, lost and shaken, obey, now sure what hell really looks like.

          As you walk through the doorway, you notice the sweet smell of roses, the same smell as the air freshener Jack insist stay plugged in near his room door, the same smell, you learn, of Haley’s perfume. She lounges on the couch, and you awkwardly sit in the armchair across from her, pulling at the hospital gown that hides nothing as she eyes you critically. Haley looks almost bored as she turns and ignores you in favor of picking at her nails.

          “So you’re Aaron’s new… paramour…” she intones, only the slightest hint of disdain bleeding through her voice as she looks at you under her delicate, golden eyelashes. She looks as beautiful and radiant as Aaron and Jack always described her, her hair long and blonde just like after she gave birth. Those very tresses seem to frame her face like a halo, making her look angelic in the sunshine streaming in through the window even as her glare turns your blood to ice.

          “A paramour implies I’m fleeting, temporary. We just got engaged last month… but I’m sure you know that, Mrs. Hotchner-slash-figment-of-my-imagination-slash-angel-of-death,” you murmur, eyes to the ceiling as you rock slightly in your seat. Haley lets out an un-ladylike snort, making you stop rocking, your knuckles white on the edge of your seat.

          “Oh, honey… Isn’t that what you are? Transient, passing… a moment’s whim. Also, paramour has another meaning, don’t you know? It also means lover, mistress.” She smirks at you over the rim of her coffee cup as you freeze in indignance.

          “Well, that would be the wrong word, as I am no one’s mistress. I’m about to be his wife.” Haley raises her head, the cold, amused look in her eyes frightening you more than the smirk.

          “Oh, no, Y/N. I am.” She rises to her feet and settles herself on the coffee table in front of you, her arrogant gaze looking down at you. Your legs tense, and you suddenly feel even colder draped in your flimsy paper gown. “I am his wife. I am his high school sweetheart, I am his first love, I am the mother of his child, and I always will be. You… you are a placeholder.” Your hands start shaking as you duck your head down, unable to meet her eyes, and she smirks as she leans down, whispering in your ear as you lay your head on your knees, your hands tangled in your hair.

          “He doesn’t love you.” You can hear the self-assured smirk in her voice as you clasp together your trembling hands, your nails digging into your skin. “He thinks you’re cute, yes; he thinks you’re sweet. How could he not when the little girl who works at the bakery has a little crush on him and asks him out with a heart-shaped box of chocolates? Sweet, little thing, you didn’t think you were forever, not with that age gap, did you?” You let out a choked sob, clenching your eyes shut as her voice goes frigid and sharp.

          “He does not care for you. He will never care for you, not like he did me. Jack will never see you as a mother. Your married life will be a sham, a mockery of what he and I had, a charade of what you two will never achieve.” Haley takes your hair and pulls, forcing you face her, your teary eyes meeting her mocking ones. “You might as well end it right now,” she insists, her other hand harshly gripping your chin. “You’re in surgery right now with fatal knife wounds to your abdomen. All that’s keeping you going is your pathetic puppy love for my husband and child. Let go, Y/N. They won’t even miss you.” You rock back and forth, your eyes wide and breaths shortening as you feel the grasp of a panic attack start to come for you. Your gaze darts around the room as Haley smirks down at you, and you can feel the ice in your veins spread through your body until your eyes land at a picture frame on the end table.

          Seeing Aaron’s and Jack’s smile forces another sob out of you as it pulls at your heartstrings before you sit up a bit straighter. In the picture, the two boys are in the park on a checkered blanket, Jack clambering onto Aaron’s shoulders like a monkey. It’s a candid shot, the two of them too happy in each other’s company to notice the camera. You know this, because you took the picture at your birthday picnic. They had made the meal themselves, Aaron’s pasta a little bit too salty and Jack’s cupcakes a little bit too sweet, and yet it was the best meal you could remember. It had been the best because they loved you, because they cared are about. Only one person in this world could be stupid enough to forget that: you.

          You stand up quickly, shocking the figment of your anesthesia-fuddled mind to sitting on the table. As you look down at her, you clench your fists at your sides, your thumb prodding the impressive diamond ring on your left hand. You may not have remembered it there before, but now that you do, no one will take away it or what it means to you, not even yourself or your jealousy of a woman long gone, long dead.

          “YOU… you are the personification of my guilt, my anxiety, my fear. Haley Hotchner is everything I’m afraid of, and I know that, so you know that, because you’re me.” You point at her perfect face and force yourself to accept that she only exists in your mind and is only relevant if you allow her to be. “My depression, my anxiety, my doubt, my past will not be used against me, will not  _win_. You won’t defeat me,  _Haley_ , not when I have come so far, not when I have worked so hard to build myself into the woman I am today. You won’t hurt me,  _because_ _I refuse to let you._ ” You start to walk away from her, noting with satisfaction the confident swish of fabric around your knees and the clicking of your heels on the tile. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a loving fiance and child to get back to. They must be worried sick about me,” you say, hand on the door, as you smile back at her, confident that she is a demon you have dealt with and won’t fear again. The fresh air when you open the door, even if only in your mind, is crisp and beautiful, but not as beautiful as the sight before you.

          At the end of the perfect little flower-lined walkway, outside of the perfect stupid white picket fence, is your two boys. Jack is sitting expectedly on top of the sensible black sedan you secretly love even though you make fun of it, and Aaron is leaning back against it, giving you that gigawatt smile as he holds out a hand to you.

          “What took you so long, Y/N? C’mon, let’s go home.” You can only helplessly smile back as you pitch forward and jog towards him, tears pricking the corner of your eyes as you run from your demons and into his arms, a bright light engulfing you as he holds you close.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

          “Someone asked me at school today about you. They asked what happened to all my cool lunches… I told them what happened, and they asked me to tell you to get well soon. Even that boy who bullied me before, he seemed worried about you. Please get better soon, momma. Is she gonna get better soon, dad?”

          “Don’t worry, Jack. Momma’s going to be up and dancing and stuffing us with food in no time.”

          “I knew it… Y’all just like me for my food…” you grumble, unable to open your eyes against the bright hospital light and unknown-days-worth of eye gunk. They are only silent for a minute before your hyper ten year old practically tackles you, his arms secure around your shoulders. You wince but hug back just as strong, your arms tightening when Aaron tries to get him to let go. “Oh, my baby, I’m sorry, I must have scared you. I’m so sorry.” When you do open your eyes, Aaron is standing by your bedside, stoic as ever, his worry only betrayed by the fidgety way he twists his engagement band. You reach a hand out to him, and he takes it and brings it to his lips as he sits down on your bed, his lips warm and trembling against the back of your hand.

          “I was so worried about you,” he murmurs, his eyes closing as you caress his cheek. He leans into the touch, and you coo at your two sad boys as they vie for contact with you. “How could you have been so reckless?”

          “He’s the one that came at me, sweetie. I’m so sorry, but I’m here. I’m better. I’m not going anywhere,” you say, your grip on Jack’s shoulders tightening as you make a promise. “Aaron, we are going to be so happy together. I’m going to make you happy, you’re going to make me happy, the three of us are going to together and happy forever. Nothing will take me away from us.” At this, his eyes furrow, and he leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours.

          “Is something wrong, Y/N?” he asks, his lips soft and warm on your skin. You close your eyes, luxuriating in the feeling of love surrounding you before you wind your hand in his tie, keeping him close to you as you shake your head.

          “I just had a bad dream. A really bad dream,” you say, burrowing your face in the crook of his neck as Aaron pulls you and Jack close to him.

          “What was it? What happened?” Jack asks, as he finally gets off from on top of you and nestles into your side. You gingerly run your hand through his hair as Aaron’s fingertips sweetly traces your cheek and neck. You take his hand and smile at the two silver bands before shaking your head again.

          “Nothing, just some nonsense, nothing important. What is important, though, is my stomach. I am starving, and the two of you are so skinny, you must have not eaten the entire time I was here. Is this what happens when I’m not around to feed you, you silly, lovely things?”


End file.
